


Singing in the Rain

by SealandRocks



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Sex, Awkward First Times, Car Sex, M/M, Morning After, NSFW, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 09:42:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4216878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SealandRocks/pseuds/SealandRocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John get stuck in a rainstorm in a broken car. Whatever will they do until the rain stops?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Singing in the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> You have no idea how long I've been working on this story, bit by bit. I thought today would be an excellent day to finish it up in honor of the US legalizing gay marriage today. Enjoy the gay filth, everyone! Also, sorry Dad.

“It’s no use, I can’t see a damn thing.” John yelled over the constant roar of the rain pattering on a million surfaces. He could see Sherlock’s head through the rivulets on the windshield, the bastard completely dry. Honestly, how could someone as ingenious as Sherlock not know a thing about a car’s engine? John came back around to his side of the car after closing the hood and shook his hair before getting in, closing the door with a long sigh as his cold body relaxed back into the seat. Suddenly, the answer to his previous question was answered by a snicker in the driver’s seat. Someone as smart as Sherlock did know how to fix a car… And was enough of a cock to convince John otherwise. The wet blonde turned on his friend, glaring at him the best he could while his face was going numb.

“You bastard, you told me you didn’t know the first thing about engines!”

“Yeah, well I also told you I didn’t put sugar in your coffee earlier.”

John groaned, running a hand through his dripping hair. He and Sherlock had been taking a case up in Dartmoor concerning a chemical experiment at the military base of Baskerville. John was impressed by how quickly Sherlock had solved the mystery, although at this point he should probably stop being surprised. It rarely took Sherlock even a week to figure out the solution to a case, no matter how difficult it was. They had spent an extra day in Dartmoor before starting the drive home. And then the rain started. It poured down harder than usual, and before long the engine of the car flooded and stalled. Darkness was descending upon the duo in their confined quarters, and it was still raining so hard that John had gotten completely soaked, even through his wool jumper, in a matter of seconds of stepping outside.

“Well, no matter, it’s too dark to see if I can fix the engine. We’ll need to call someone.”

“We don’t get any reception in the car.” Sherlock fixated his gaze on his friend, his cool blue-grey eyes scanning over John’s features like a cat evaluating his prey. It took John a long moment to break eye contact once he made it, gulping as a shiver ran up his spine. He looked away hastily, jutting his bottom lip out a little.

“Well, I’m not getting out. You’re making the call.”

Sherlock looked for a moment like he might protest, but didn’t, huffing an irritated breath before pushing his way out into the rain. The dark curls that crowned the detective’s head where beat down almost instantly by the downpour. Sherlock walked off to the side of the road, climbing a small slope to higher ground off the side of the road before he pulled out his phone and called a tow service.  
John watched him from the passenger seat of the Land Rover. He could only make out the silhouette of Sherlock’s body and head, popped coat collar and all, but it was definitely enough to tell that it was him. John stole himself for a moment, thinking back on the look Sherlock had given him before getting out of the car. Ever since Irene Adler had dropped in and out of their lives, Sherlock had been acting differently towards John. He acted like he actually cared about him, which was odd altogether since John thought it wasn’t possible for Sherlock to truly care for something other than his work. During the 6 months that they were in contact with Miss Adler, Sherlock had grown steadily more and more distant, pushing John away nearly every chance he could get. The blonde hadn’t thought too hard on it (after all, Sherlock was always rather distant) until he had met up with Irene in the flesh during a time when she was supposed to be dead. There was something about their conversation in that old, abandoned construction building that planted the seed of an idea into John’s mind. What if he did like Sherlock in a romantic way? John certainly was attracted to women, but could it be possible he was also attracted to Sherlock, even if he was a man? He was quite aware that it wasn’t just one gender over the other from his long days (and especially nights) in the army, but he had never considered himself to be bisexual. The idea that he could be in love with Sherlock had plagued him for a few months now, though it was beginning to look like he was indeed feeling something towards his friend more than just simple affection. The rush of adrenaline just a minute ago induced by a simple look was strongly strengthening this view, as well as how hot John thought Sherlock looked standing in the rain, all wet and dripping and a little bit hunched over. It was a mystery why the man had never brought someone home even once in the year and a half they had lived together, even if he did put people off.

It wasn’t long before Sherlock had returned, slipping on the way down off the slope and sliding down in a puddle of thick mud. John could hear the deep groan of irritation even over all the obstructions, and he laughed despite himself as Sherlock waddled back to the car. The detective then punished John, for making him go out and consequently getting dirty, by shaking his hair after he had gotten into the car like a dog so John got covered in wet and dirt.

“No tow trucks tonight, we have to wait here until 5 tomorrow morning.” Sherlock rested his wet head back against the headrest, closing his eyes. Pellets of water dripped and dribbled down his long, pale neck, gathering by his collarbone before disappearing under his shirt. John gulped, feeling a shudder run through him that did not have the fortune of escaping Sherlock’s notice. The detective looked to him, his eyes dragging over his torso and up to his face, impassive as ever. There was a smudge of mud on the side of his face that John was certain he noticed, but for some reason John couldn’t say anything about it under Sherlock’s stare.

“Are you cold?”

“Er, yes. I mean, it’s freezing water already! And it’s not like the heater exactly works for long when the engine’s like this.” John looked away, rubbing his arms through his wet jumper. He was actually pretty cold…

“You should undress.”

John snapped his head around, shocked and scandalized. Sherlock rolled his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“I meant you should strip off your wet clothing. Hypothermia sets in extraordinarily quickly when the victim is still dressed in cold and wet clothes. That’s why many people, even after they get out of cold water, still-”

“Ok, Sherlock, I get it. But right now, all my clothing is wet clothing. You can’t seriously be asking me to-”

Both men stopped talking. John found that his face was slowly heating up, while Sherlock’s intense gaze did the same. The detective slipped his muddy coat off his shoulders, throwing it into the back seat so he was left in the wet clothing underneath.

“Naked and dry is better than wet and clothed, John.”

“Sherlock. What are you…?” John’s mouth was dry, but he couldn’t pull his eyes away from where they were meeting with Sherlock’s, the detective not breaking eye contact either as he unbuttoned his silk shirt.

“I’m not blind John, as you well know. And you’d have to be not to notice. All the changes…”

John’s heart was racing, his hands absentmindedly going to slowly undo his coat to keep them from shaking. “Notice what? What changes?”

“Our changes, John. The way I’ve been acting… I’ve noticed myself, lately, how much you mean to me… How much you’ve always meant. The way you react.”

“Oh, that… I have noticed. But I just thought you were-”

“Upset? Guilty over what happened with The Woman? Trying to make it up to you? In a way, yes, but it was so much more than that, John. I see the way you’ve started looking at me. You don’t shiver just from the cold.” Sherlock glided closer after his wet shirt had been shed with his jacket, a daring hand resting warmly on John’s arm. As if on cue, John shivered, sighing softly as warmth and pleasure danced across his skin from the contact. There was no way this was really happening… This was only a dream. Only a dream. A very realistic, soon to be wet dream.

“I’ve been trying to ignore it,” Sherlock murmured, eyes demanding attention and making it impossible for John to look away, even though that pearly skin was beckoning him so wonderfully, “Surely you remember my thirst for cases the day we left. I didn’t want to acknowledge how much I wanted you. I couldn’t stand how my thoughts were consumed with you. From the moment I wake up, to the moment I sleep, and every single one in between I’m thinking about you, John. Except when I’m on a case, and sometimes even then.”

John shuddered again, a chill tingling down the back of his neck and making his hair stand on end. There was no way Sherlock was really saying this… Still, John’s tongue was tied, his body taking over as he tossed his jacket back to join Sherlock’s. The brunet was almost in John’s seat with how close he suddenly became, making John flush and stutter.

“S-Sherlock.”

“I see those reactions in you, too. I know how badly you want me. I know the things you think about above my head, in your room, when you think I’m asleep. I can read it all.” Sherlock dared to lean closer, nudging his cold nose into the nape of John’s neck and breathing in deeply. “God, you smell like tea and rain… You smell like perfection, John Watson.”

John finally regained mobility of his body, a hot heat prickling his skin at the mention of his late-night personal parties. Softly, John placed his hands on Sherlock’s bare shoulders, pushing back until he could look at him. The detective looked wild, hungry, as if he had been thirsting for this for so long that he couldn’t stand not being able to have John anymore.

“Sherlock… I don’t know if this is the best idea… What if..” Sherlock cut John off.

“No ‘what if’s, John. What if our business suffers? People already think we are dating, there would be no harm. What if we’re not right for each other? What if our friendship is at stake? We’re practically already together, I don’t believe that will be a problem. Just… Please. Please, I need you.”

John was breathless. He had only ever imagined Sherlock saying those things, hearing them made them much, much hotter. And he had never imagined that Sherlock even knew how to beg, which is what he seemed to be doing. The doctor’s eyes lidded slightly, and he pulled Sherlock a bit farther into his seat.

“And what if I did let us do this? What would you do afterwards?”

Sherlock hummed, tugging John’s jumper and undershirt off so he was left bare-chested as well.

“I would keep you. One night of absolute passion, and a lifetime of everything else. I would never let anyone have you ever again.” He whispered in John’s ear, running his hands down his sides.

“One condition,” John panted, voice warbling just slightly. Sherlock looked up to him from the crook of his neck, challengingly. “One night of passion my arse, we’re going to be doing this a whole lot.”

Sherlock laughed, pressing kisses to John’s jaw.

“Deal.”

~

All that could be heard over the rain’s pitter-pattering on the windshield was the soft gasps, the greedy breaths of sucked down air and the breathless whimpers over what that air was enabling them to do. The leather of the car seat crackled under their bodies, giving the fake pliancy of a cushion as the car gently began to rock, just ever so slightly.

John’s lips parted, red and swollen, as he brought in oxygen through his mouth like it would return to him the semblance of control he thought he had over the situation. Quiet, soft sounds were being released on the exhale, tiny pleasured noises that Sherlock didn’t mean to release. John, in turn, whispered encouraging, filthy words into Sherlock’s skin, words that Sherlock made sure to remember. He was more than happy to delete old experiments or random people’s favorite things or Lestrade’s first name in favor of keeping this moment, every sensation that John brought to him. What started as one became two fingers stretching Sherlock open, bringing him the intense heat and fullness that only sex could provide, along with the promises of something much deeper and infinitely hotter. Sherlock felt like he was floating, laid beneath John and open for him as he let him rock in and out, the pads of his fingers brushing past his prostate here and there.

It had become impossible to keep hands off one another after they had sealed what was going to happen. Sherlock and John had kissed (snogged, really), wet lips smacking and tongues dipping out here and there to taste at flushed skin. Sherlock had tried to place his lips everywhere, feeling John’s heart beating hard beneath his pink skin, practically able to taste the blood that was flowing through his veins to very savory places. After an embarrassingly short amount of time, John’s trousers and pants were hanging from one ankle, and Sherlock was crawling into the passenger seat on top of him, pushing him down and reaching for the lever that sent the back of the chair falling to meet the backseat. John had had some trouble getting Sherlock’s own trousers off, and though the brunet had chuckled, even he had trouble when he tried his hand at the buttons and zipper. Eventually, both of them were finally, gloriously, wonderfully naked, and hard as rocks since frankly this foreplay had gone on longer than any that Sherlock had absentmindedly recorded when John had brought women home. John had then proceeded to flip them over, eyes sparking dangerously as he shuffled down to get a better angle. Sherlock definitely did not blush when he looked down to see John between his legs, almost down low enough to come into contact with his erection. The position was awkward, but John didn’t complain, simply running his hands over Sherlock’s body in absolute awe.

“So beautiful… You’re gorgeous, Sherlock.” John mixed his words with kisses to Sherlock’s stomach and pelvis, popping three fingers into his mouth to wet them before dropping them back down.

Sherlock was jolted out of his momentary recollection of the evening by a particularly direct touch to his prostate. A groan that was definitely too high pitched to be his own voice was released, and Sherlock arched his back off the seat. His cock was dripping in earnest now, and without even looking down Sherlock could feel the raw sexual energy flowing off of John. He needed it, needed more. He needed John.

“Please! God, please, John… Take me already, dammit.” Sherlock threw his head to the side, panting hard as he failed to keep his hips from rocking into John’s fingers. Suddenly, he was being opened up further, John kissing the head of his erection as the third finger wiggled inside almost easily.

“Well, isn’t someone eager… Are you sure you’re ready to take me? You may not be stretched enough.”

Sherlock growled, clutching at the seat. John was being such a damn tease. Yes, he was rather large, and Sherlock could probably do with some more stretching, but right now all he wanted was for John to fuck him senseless.

“Yes, yes, I’m ready! Now get up here and do something because I’m not going to last much longer…”

John, amazing, wonderful, irritating John, fucking _chuckled_ above him. Finally, the blonde came out from between Sherlock’s thighs, licking a savory stripe up from the precome dribbling onto Sherlock’s stomach to his belly button. Sherlock let his head fall back, gripping onto the seat and almost holding his breath for John to enter him.

Only he didn’t. John twisted in the seat, making Sherlock moan in protest.

“John!”

“Yes, yes, hold on…” John was digging through the glove compartment, pulling out a condom that must have been in there since before they had driven up. Sherlock wasn’t very concerned about where it had come from, or even about using it, he just wanted to be filled again. John ripped the packet open with his teeth, expertly tugging the condom on. He slicked himself up some with spit, groaning lowly at the contact to his cock. Sherlock whined, arching his hips to remind his friend what else could be giving him friction.

This time John barely even hesitated. Gripping Sherlock’s hip with one hand, he eased himself forward inside the tight seal of Sherlock’s body.

Both men let out tight hissing breaths, trying to adjust to the feel of their bodies melding into one. For John, it had been much too long since he had done this with anyone. If he could think anything at all, he would be able to put it together that his last girlfriend had broken up with him Christmas Eve last year, so he had had several months to build up quite a sensitivity to how Sherlock’s muscles clenched down on him. He gasped breathlessly and pushed in just a bit deeper, letting Sherlock’s body guide the speed he sunk all the way inside. He didn’t want to hurt him, after all, even though this felt so amazing that John was quickly turning into a puddle of mush.

All forms of cognitive thought fled from Sherlock’s brain the second that John had bumped the head of his cock against his arse. The only thought he seemed to be able to form was oh God, this is really happening, this is John and we’re really doing this over and over and over. A splitting pain shot through Sherlock as John started pressing inside, making Sherlock twitch and clench down on him. But John’s moan that followed that little, involuntary action was enough to make Sherlock forget about the pain.

Sherlock rocked down a little bit on John’s cock, making both of them groan in unison. John gripped Sherlock’s hips, guiding him in a slow rhythm of delicious friction. It was a heaven he had never experienced before. Sherlock was hot and tight, and it was oh so much better than he had ever imagined. It was like he was sucking as much of John up as he could, pulling him in and closer and simply reveling in the feeling of John so full inside. John didn’t even notice his eyes were closed until he forced them open, looking at Sherlock’s face of stunned pleasure. He seemed to be having trouble breathing, head lolling to the side and his hands gripping at the worn seams of the car seat. To John, Sherlock seemed to be enjoying this even more than he was.

John’s eyes trailed down Sherlock’s body like wispy streams of moonlight, like the silver beams that before now had been the only thing lucky enough to gaze upon this pale canvas. John had seen Sherlock’s torso naked before, but this was different. It was intimate, and Sherlock’s chest was quickly turning a darker color that could only mean he was blushing from the attention. The light was faint, but John could see well enough to trace the hollows of his ribs, the flat expanse of his stomach, the slope down to his parted thighs, his hard cock bobbing lewdly against his pelvis as John started to thrust a bit faster inside him. John tilted his hips up and, oh God, he could see himself disappearing into Sherlock’s body. His eyes snapped back up to Sherlock’s face, to the gray eyes that were staring back in complete trust and void of any control, and suddenly the situation crashed in around John. They were doing this, they were having sex in their car in the middle of a rainstorm and it was wonderful and filthy and John had never been turned on more than he was right now.

Sherlock let out a cry of pleasure when John started snapping his hips, his cock growing impossibly harder inside him and his lips falling to suck bruises and marks along Sherlock’s neck and chest. The pounding of the rain outside couldn’t disguise the little grunts and sounds the pair was letting out, fogging up windows as they got more used to how the other one moved.

“Fuck…” Sherlock growled out, one hand scratching through John’s short hair. The sudden jolts pulsing through him could only mean that John had hit his prostate again. “Fuck, John!”

“Uh huh.” John managed to pant in reply, lips set against Sherlock’s neck as his hips snapped back and forth, again and again.

Finally, Sherlock couldn’t take it. Pulling John up to kiss him full on the mouth, he tried to flip them over, succeeding in jamming John’s back against the window controls and getting them all tangled together with legs and too little space. John struggled to pull out of the kiss, despite Sherlock trying to stay in it to hide his embarrassed flush.

“Sher… Wait, Sherlock!” John broke them apart, laughing. “Ok, we need a bit more coordination than that.” John was just teasing, but he could feel how anxious Sherlock suddenly was, so he kissed him softly. “What are you trying to do, love?”

“I want…. I was trying to get you on your back.” Sherlock looked to the side, able to feel John’s eyes on him.

John hummed and settled into the position Sherlock wanted him in. They really should have had their first time somewhere there was enough room to flip around, but John wasn’t complaining. Especially not when Sherlock threw a leg over his hips to straddle him, making John’s breath catch and whatever part of the mood was lost was suddenly back hotter than ever.

Sherlock seemed to like making John lose his mind, because he gave John’s cock a few long strokes, smirking at him.

“What a shame you’re so conscious with safety. I would love to ride this cock bare until the first light of day. And maybe even after that.”

John whimpered in need, imagining what it would be like. Hell, had he ever been comfortable enough to not use a condom? He didn’t think so, but with Sherlock he would change that willingly. He had heard that the feeling without one was unlike anything else…

Sherlock tilted John’s cock straight up from his body, and all thought stopped. Beautiful was the only way John could describe the sensation of entering Sherlock again. John’s cock slid inside easily, locking them together once again in something very close to an embrace. Sherlock let his head fall back, his hands splayed on John’s abdomen and looking completely fucked out. He rolled his hips slowly, gasping at the pleasure before starting to slowly lift and drop himself. Sherlock was certainly good at his new job, rising slowly until just the head of John’s cock was still inside him before letting himself fall down quickly. It was hot and heavenly and John was getting close already.

John reached up a hand and ran it over Sherlock’s pale chest, the faint marks of hickies already beginning to darken from what he could see of them. Seeing them there made John’s heart jump in his chest a little, knowing that even after they got back to London Sherlock would be wearing these under his shirt, branded as property of John. _Mine_. Sherlock gasped at the contact to his chest, his back arching a bit and his muscles fluttering around John’s cock so beautifully that John couldn’t help groaning in return.

“Yeah, that’s it baby.” John growled out, his voice husky with sex and his hands trailing down to stroke Sherlock’s weeping cock, “Ride me.”

And Sherlock did. Quite enthusiastically. All their running around on cases certainly had giving him excellent stamina, because he wasn’t showing any signs of slowing down his pace as the car seat began to creak and the car started to rock. In fact, the touches to his member seemed to have him desperate for more, and the small space began to fill with the pants and pleas to come from a very hot, horny, frazzled detective.  
Finally, John couldn’t hold back any longer, gripping Sherlock’s hips and fucking up into him vigorously. Three thrusts was all it took, and John was coming, coming so hard that sparks of light were flying across his vision and he couldn’t concentrate on anything but how wonderful Sherlock felt clenching around him. He was dimly aware of Sherlock coming with him, the spilling of warm liquid all over John’s chest, the way Sherlock yelled his name and the “Sherlock!” John shouted in return.

The world turned to a yellow gold when Sherlock collapsed onto his chest, both of them panting in the afterglow of what had probably been the best first-sex either of them had ever had. Sherlock whimpered as John pulled his softening cock out, sliding off the full condom and tying it without even looking. Then he wrapped his arms around Sherlock, humming as he felt up the soft, warm skin of his back. A shiver went through Sherlock, and he hummed happily before attaching his lips to John’s neck.

“Still cold from the rain?” Sherlock sounded gruff and tired, his voice so low that John could barely hear him.

“After that? You could drop me on a glacier and I wouldn’t notice.” John chuckled, kissing Sherlock’s sweaty forehead as his neck was being given a necklace of hickies to match his partner’s. It pained John to pull him away, but after another couple of luxurious minutes John sat up partway. “Come on, love, we need to get dressed.”

Sherlock huffed, trying to combat John’s progress by cuddling sleepily into his chest. “Later.”

“The tow people will be here very early, we don’t want to be naked when they get here.”

“Everything we own is wet, John.” Sherlock was looking at him now, eyebrow raised. John broke down, sighing.

“Fine, but we have to get up before they get here to get dressed.” He sunk back down onto the seat, Sherlock nestled snuggly on top of them, and neither of them even thought about setting an alarm.

~

Hours later, sunlight was streaming through the windows of the car. The rain had cleared away during the night, and John was woken up slowly by the sounds of birds chirping and people talking in the distance. It took a few tries for John to open his eyes, but when he did he about jumped out of his skin. Sherlock was nowhere to be seen, and there was a woman looking into the car with an amused look on her face. John didn’t cry out, but it was a very near thing.

It took John a moment to cover up himself, but he was lucky enough to have a flash of privacy when the woman looked away long enough for John to slip on some boxers. He sat up and looked out the window, seeing Sherlock talking to one of the other tow people. After looking around the backseat, John determined that Sherlock must not be wearing anything underneath his coat. The thought had John’s cock twitching, and he was suddenly very awake.

By the time John was dressed enough to get out of the car, Sherlock was walking back, skillfully ignoring the whistle the tow woman gave John.

“Morning. I trust you slept well.” Sherlock gave John a smile, his coat buttoned up tightly around him. It looked like it was still wet and muddy, and John couldn’t wait to get it off him and rub all the mud patches off his skin.

“Slept beautifully. Waking up was an experience.” John chuckled, and Sherlock joined him after a moment. They just stood there for a while, a warm, friendly awkwardness sparked with tension hanging easily between them. After a minute the woman called them over to sign some paperwork, so they headed that way. Then, deciding there was no point in hiding it now, John reached over and slipped his hand into Sherlock’s palm. The detective hummed and squeezed John’s hand, making warmth spread through their chests as they walked together.


End file.
